The Thirty Seven Bridges Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Illya deals with people from his past as he and Napoleon assist the C.I.A. with the defection of a Soviet agent to the U.S. Their assignment  takes a dangerous turn. Lies, deception. temptations and doubts... mild het. # 4 in the Saga series AU
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: "First Kill" is the pre-quel to this story. Both can be read independently, but it does set up this story nicely.

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_**There are thirty seven bridges in Paris, many the rendezvous of lovers and spies alike. They say that if you kiss under " Le Pont Marie" and wish for eternal love, your wish will be granted...**_

**.**

**"****The Thirty Seven Bridges Affair****"**

Napoleon Solo was followed through the door to Alexander Waverly's conference room by his partner, Illya Kuryakin. The Russian was looking a little sleep-deprived, being a fairly new father and still becoming accustomed to the demands his four month old son, Demya. Illya masked another concern that he had,not letting Napoleon know that it weighed heavily on his mind.

Elliott Mc Gowan, fellow Section II agent and the child's mother was still out of the field at present, assigned to light duty at headquarters for the last three months, after being home for a full month of maternity leave. She was in the process of weaning her son, which would allow her to return to to the field.

Waverly had put the question as to that status to Elliott just a little over a year ago, before the birth of the child, letting Elliot know that it was her decision and hers alone as to whether she would remain a field agent. Elliott had made up her mind to stay in Section II and Illya was not very happy about it.

"Don't be such a chauvanist," she snapped at him, understanding his concerns, but not willing to give in to his demand for her to leave the field.

"Elliott,what if something happens to you?"

"What if something happens to ye?" she shot back at him, her Irish accent thicker when she became upset.

"What if something happens to us?" he said modulating his voice lower.

Elliott flopped down onto the sofa." Well ye should have thought about that before ye got me preggers then shouldn't ye?"

"That is not fair. It took two of us to do that if you recall, and it _was _an accident?"

Sure, it was wasn't it, and a pleasant one at that!" her eyes sparkled, remembering their drunken love-making that night at April Dancer's New Years party. "Illya why are we arguing about this? Ye know it's my decision to make. Ye have always respected my independence before so why do ye have to fight me on this now?"

"Because it is not just about you or me, it is about our son. I am sorry Annushka, I just do not want him to grow up without his mother."

"Illya isn't the possibility of losing his father of equal importance? How would ye feel if I demanded ye leave the field?"

Illya looked rather sheepishly at her knowing she was right.

"Yah, the shoe fits different when it's on the other foot doesn't it? Illuysha, we're in this together and we'll have ta do the best we can. We knew the risks when we got into this profession and we'll just have ta make up our minds not ta get killed then won't we?" She smiled.

That was an absurd statement. But then realizing that he had met his match when it came to stubbornness, Illya resigned himself to her decision knowing now that he was not going to convince her otherwise. He sat on the sofa next to her, taking her in his arms.

"Then I guess we will both just have to be more careful then enh?" he sighed, still unhappy.

"Thank you Illuysha." she smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

Illya left for headquarters to join Napoleon for a morning briefing, but not before he looked in on Demya as the child slept peacefully in his crib. He was a good baby and rarely fussed. The Russian gently touched his face, whispering to him.

_"Horosho spat' moemu syn. Papa lyubit vas_sleep well my son. Papa loves you_."

He kissed Demya on the head then left. Little did he know that he was about to be given an assignment that might change this private world of his forever.

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"Good Morning gentlemen, "greeted Waverly as they walked in." I believe you are both acquainted with Bill Klemm of the C.I.A?" The dark haired man sat beside Waverly, Solo took note the American agent was wearing a cheap "off the rack suit.

"

"Bill," acknowledged Napoleon, wondering why Klemm was gracing U.N.C.L.E. with his presence this time, as in the past it was usually to harass Illya in some way. He had thought that Waverly had finally reached some sort of understanding with the C.I.A. in that regards to their persecution of the Russian.

Illya remained silent. There was no love lost between he and the American agent. He knew Klemm hated him, always referring to him as the "pinko commie" or the "God-damned Russkie." He would not give Klemm the satisfaction of knowing that it angered him to no end, even though as a rule, he let comments such as these roll off him like water off a duck's back.

With Bill Klemm it was a little different, as he was someone who was constantly orchestrating Illya's harassment; having him dragged him in for questioning deliberately in the early morning hours, in spite of Alexander Waverly's protests.

"Kill em' with kindness." Napoleon had advised once."It was Oscar Wilde who said," _Aways forgive your enemies...nothing annoys them so much."_

Sound advise but not in this case. Illya chose not to show kindness instead he remained aloof, and as far as forgiveness was concerned; he thought not.

They sat at the conference table opposite Waverly and Klemm; Illya instantly slipping on his tinted reading glasses, drawing his attention to the file just passed to him and to hide his eyes from the gaze of the American.

The image of a woman flashed on the video screen behind Waverly.

"The C.I.A was recently contacted by this woman...Katiya Revchenkov, a member of Soviet Intelligence. She has indicated an interest in defecting to the west. In addition to her connections to the internal working of the GRU, she also has tenuous connections to a research project that would essentially reduce the size of a nuclear bomb to that of a small briefcase. She has in her possession certain research documents and has indicated that she will turn them over to the United States government in return for sanctuary.

Illya sat quietly with his hands pressed together on the table in front of him showing no reaction. He stared at the image...she had aged a little, But her eyes had not changed, those deep brown almond shaped eyes that had seduced him so long ago.

"Sir, excuse me," Napoleon interrupted," but what does this have to do with UNCLE, isn't this the concern of the C.I.A.?"

"There are special terms set for the defection by Miss Revchenkov... she has requested that Mr. Kuryakin help bring her back to the U.S. and turn her safely over to the C.I.A on American soil."

"Affirmative. Apparently she wants a Russkie Comrade to help her, doesn't trust us, even though she's willing to defect." Klemm said.

"You were acquainted with Miss Revchenkov from your days at the Sorbonne were you not Mr. Kuryakin?" Waverly asked.

"Yes sir, we knew each other while students at University." Illya deliberately left out specific details of how he knew her and the real reason why he was at the Sorbonne, otherwise Klemm would have gone ballistic. The C.I.A. knew only that he was a former Soviet Intelligence agent before he came to UNCLE and nothing more, as details of his past were a closely guarded secret with the organization. UNCLE protected their own.

"Quite," Waverly spoke," Regardless of the circumstances of the acquaintanceship, Miss Revchenkov will only make the move if escorted by you Mr. Kuryakin. So I am sending you and Mr. Solo to Paris in response to the C.I.A.'s request for help in this matter, as it were. You will retrieve Miss Revchenkov, bring her here to the United States and you will turn her over to the hands of the C.I.A. at Langley."

"And their involvement?" Illya asked.

"We will be waiting for you with open arms in Virgina, Kuryakin," Klemm said," and you better deliver the package, otherwise the proverbial shit will hit the fan...you get me comrade?"

Illya's jaw tightened but said nothing.

"Cut the crap with the threats Bill!" Napoleon said sharply.

"That's right Solo, run to the defense of your Commie buddy?" Klemm retorted.

"Enough!" Waverly barked.

"Gentlemen," he spoke, lowering his voice as he tossed a pair of airline tickets to his agents. "Your flight to Paris leaves this evening."

And with that they were summarily dismissed. They rose from their chairs and walked from the office together, not giving Klemm another look as they exited.

"Look I know you're not happy about this...I don't like the idea of helping out the C.I.A. and Klemm, myself." Napoleon said.

"That is not what is bothering me."

"Is it something to do with the girl then?"

"Yes," Illya sighed," unfortunately it does."

"Why?"

Illyas face showed his discomfort but his partner had a right to know.

"I did not want to say this in front of Klemm, as Katiya Revchenkov was my handler. It was my assignment while earning my degree at Sorbonne to spy on the Soviet faculty and students and we were..."Illya paused, not at ease as usual at discussing his past.

"And...?" Solo prompted.

"Napoleon, Katiya and I were lovers. I was eighteen and homesick, she was Russian, beautiful, older and experienced shall we say in many ways. I let myself be seduced by her and eventually she betrayed me. To this day I am not sure why she did it."

Napoleon nodded. "Well looks like you'll get a chance to ask her my friend. I do understand why you're not happy about this...wow, your lover? You really hide these secrets well don't you? I can see why it happened though; she's a very beautiful woman."

"Elliott will not be happy about this." Illya mumbled as they finally walked into their office.

"Jealousy on the home front?" Napoleon quipped.

"Perhaps, I am not sure. Elliott as you know has quite the temper and can be somewhat volatile at times. I am unsure as to how she will react to this situation."

"Well then don't tell her. That's easy enough?"

Illya dropped the airline tickets and the file on his desk then sat in his chair. He grabbed a box of paper clips and began flicking some of them with his thumb into a large ashtray on the far side of his desk, one of the few nervous habits he had when mulling something over in his mind. His aim was good, landing all but one before he stopped and finally responded to his partner's suggestion.

"Napoleon, Elliott and I have a very honest relationship with each other. The world we slide in and out of so easily is one of half-truths and deception. Truth must exist somewhere in our lives, otherwise the lies, the falsity of it all becomes the reality and what would we have then? No, I will tell her..."

"Illya you're definitely waxing a bit philosophical today... let's just bring it down a little? And this is speaking from personal experience," Napoleon smiled," It's not always a good idea to do that with with women. They tend to read into things too much, they think differently from men, and I don't mean in a bad way. I find them fascinating creatures and I love being around...say, you don't tell Elliott everything do you?"

"No, not everything. There are some secrets that must still be kept." he said with a wry smile." But it would be wrong of me not to tell her that I am going on an assignment to bring a former lover to this country."

"Well then good luck with that...speaking of luck, bad for me that is. I need to go cancel my date tonight with Dolores."

"_Again_ Dolores?" Illya smiled, "Is there something developing that I should know of for once? You haven't regaled me with tales of your most recent ventures with the fairer sex."

"That's because you're too busy being Mr. Homebody. No, with Dolores it's strictly dinner and dancing,"Napoleon's eyes twinkled. "She's actually a lot of fun to be around and a good source of information of course. It's more of a "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours thing."

"Oh so she is an _asset_ within U.N.C.L.E. then?"

"If you want to put it in less congenial terms...yes, she comes in handy and has given me the dirt on quite a few things." Napoleon looked down at his wristwatch." I'll meet you here at six?"

"No, at home please, seven o'clock? You understand." Illya tried hiding his smile.

"Sure." Napoleon winked. He walked away wondering how had a man like Illya, so quiet and introverted at times, ended up with a real firecracker of a woman like Elliott McGowan. _That_ he would never understand. Illya had never been one for the ladies, dating infrequently and sleeping around even less or was he?

Napoleon pictured the image of the lovely Katiya Revchenko, momentarily distracting himself. He had all but sublimated the attraction he had felt for Elliott; filling his life with the attentions of countless other women as he always had.

He'd still catch himself daydreaming of Elliott once in a while though, but would then remind himself of how lucky a man his friend was, relinquishing Illya's sole right to her. At the moment though, it was the beautiful Russian woman with the dark, exotic features and sensuous eyes, who was providing him with a pleasant distraction.

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Illya walked into the the still apartment, finding Elliott sitting quietly on the edge of the bed, bathed in warm rays of sunlight that filtered through the delicate Irish lace curtains covering the window. She had her blouse unbuttoned, lowered to her waist; Demya suckling happily at her breast. She smiled at Illya as he walked up beside her, barely making a sound. Then carefully removing her nipple from the baby's mouth, she passed Demya to his father.

"Here ye pat him." she smiled.

Illya brought his son carefully to his chest, supporting his head, then gently patted him on the back, until the boy let out a a barely perceptible belch, then laid him in the crib on his tummy, covering him with a crocheted blanket that April had sent as a gift from England.

_Elliott was pulling up her blouse when he spoke to her in French."Non, laissez-le...Je vous a dit ce qu'est une belle mère êtes-vous?"_ no, leave it... have I told you what a beautiful mother you are?"_

He sat on the bed along side her, kissing her throat, cupping her breasts with his hands andhe brought his mouth down to her, tasting a bit of her milk._"Mmmm...douce. Maintenant je sais porquoi mon fils qu'il aime tant_"Mmm...sweet. Now I know why my son loves it so ...magnifique, vous-êtes très sexy que vous connaissez_magnificent, you are very sexy you know._" he whispered to her sotto voce.

"Ye are a terrible tease ye are..." she whispered to him, feeling aroused, she kissed him sucking his lip into her mouth, making him moan in anticipation.

They lay down together on the bed, their hands and mouths moving slowly...touching, caressing exploring each others bodies and desires. Gasping, sighing and breathing deeply as they rocked together, losing themselves in that perfect intimate connection.

Illya, somehow managed to put on a condom, taking her from the side, then he climaxed with a soft groan. Not being selfish, he teased Elliott with his fingers until she shuddered with a long moan of pleasure. They lay still wrapped together with their arms and legs intertwined catching their breath, when Illya finally told her the news.

"Annushka, I have to leave tonight for Paris with Napoleon."

"I was wondering why ye were home so early?" she whispered,"How long do ye think ye'll be?"

"I anticipate not being gone long. We have to supervise a defection for the C.I.A."

Elliott rolled over to her stomach, facing him as they spoke.

"C.I.A.? Why is UNCLE involved, don't they usually want to handle their own affairs."

"The person defecting is a Soviet agent."

"And I repeat, don't they take care of their own affairs?"

"Her name is Katiya Revchenkov, and I was requested-she was my handler when I was at Sorbonne. We were, shall I say, "involved" for a while."

"Ye were lovers then?"

"Yes." he answered without a trace of emotion as if he had just been asked a question about the weather.

"It was a long time ago...she set me up and betrayed me."

Elliott laid down closer to him, playing with the hairs on his chest absent-mindedly, wrapping the chain of his medallion around her finger, as her head rested on his shoulder.

"Annushka, there is nothing there, I assure you."

"At least not in yer heart," she thought to herself. Elliott had been an agent long enough to know that sex was merely a tool to be used or not...that was the reality, The truth of the matter was the thought of him being with another woman did bother her, as she suspected it bothered him that she could sleep with another man, both doing it in the name of duty.

They had never spoken about that part of their past lives before; the intimate liaisons and lovers whether their involvement was part of the job or not. Those were things better left unspoken and she was surprised he felt the need to tell her of this woman Katiya.

"Ignorance is bliss...what ye don't know, cant hurt ye," Elliott ran through a list of trite proverbs in her head, but none of them really made her feel better. She thought it wiser to deflect any such further talk and suddenly attacked her Russian lover in the one place on his body where only she knew he was ticklish. They tussled together as they rolled laughing across the bed, then shushed themselves to a whisper, looking over to the crib to make sure Demya was still asleep. She pulled Illya under the covers with a giggle, and they made love again.

She wanted to ask him if he could have refused the assignment, but that would have made her seem insecure and stopped herself from saying it. There was a reason why it had to be her Illuysha, deciding it was best to leave it be.

The showered together, enjoying the hot water as it cascaded over them, lathering each other with soap, then giving into their urges, they had sex one more time, rinsing off before they dried and dressed themselves.

They enjoyed a nice quiet candlelight supper together, then after cleaning up, it was Demya's turn to be fed, this time a bottle of formula; his father taking his turn at feeding the baby and giving Elliott a moment to relax.

She could hear Illya in the bedroom, humming, then when Demya was finished with his bottle, he gently rocked his son to sleep in his arms, quietly singing a lullaby.

_"Bayu-bayu shi bayu. Ne lozhisya na krayu, Pridoyot serenkiy volchok, I utashchit vo lesok, Pod rakitovy kustok_ Baby,baby, rock-a-bye. On the edge you mustn't lie, or the little grey wolf will come, and nip you on the tum, tug you off into the wood, underneath the willow-root."_

"That was rather horrific", she thought, wondering why some children's lullabies had such frightening words, remembering her own father singing "Rock-a-Bye Baby," to her her when she was very little.

It came time for Illya to leave, yet no words were spoken between them as he packed a small bag readying to leave for the mission. They never spoke much when it was time to leave for any assignment as that would be an acknowledgement of the fear that was lurking in their hearts. They both used to be fearless, but it was their love for each other and now their son that weakened them, making them vulnerable and now it put them at risk.

She supposed that was the reason why UNCLE had their rules and wondered why Alexander Waverly had gone against them when it came to she and Illya, seemingly brushing off the regulations as if they meant nothing.

"Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or..." Elliott stopped herself before she said the word, thinking it instead, "die." It gave her a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

.

Illya left, walking downstairs to meet the yellow checkered cab carrying Napoleon and Elliott watched out the window has she had done in the past, until the taxi disappeared from view down the block.

The next morning Mrs. Orloff the sitter, arrived to watch Demya. The woman was vetted by UNCLE, having worked with British Intelligence during the war with Alexander Waverly, and would care for the baby when she and Illya were working.

Dubbed Tetya Olga_ Auntie Olga by Illya, she had a smiling rosy cheeked face that reminded him of the babushkas back in Russia, though she was quite capable of handling a weapon and was very familiar with security procedures.

Elliott went down to records at headquarters, letting her curiosity get the better of her; she pulled the dossier for Katiya Revchenkov, staring at the woman's photograph. She was striking, not at all what she had expected, darker complected, with long black silken hair, her eyes were a very distinctive deep brown with an oriental look about her.

She thumbed through the file...her mother was from Kazakhstan, her father a Russian and she was a trained assassin with the GRU.

Elliott hoped this enticing looking woman would not try to rekindle the romance with her former lover, knowing that temptation was a powerful weapon for a woman and men easily manipulated by it.

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"Here we go..." Napoleon said.

"I have the yo-yo,"Illya quipped, giving his partner a fake code as a joke.

"And I've got the string," he replied, not missing a beat, then Solo, dressed in a dark trench coat worn over his stylish designer suit, stepped from the black Mercedes in front of the UNCLE safe house in Paris.

Kuryakin waited behind the wheel of the car while his partner approached the door.

Solo rapped on it...three knocks, two, then one, then three again.

"Oui?" a voice responded from behind the locked door.

_"Il pleut, Il pleut à verse et Je suis trempé jusqu'aux os _ it's raining, it's pouring and I'm soaked to the skin,"* he spoke the code, though there wasn't a cloud in the dusk sky._

_"C'est votre faute_it's your fault,_ came the response.

The door opened slowly and Kuryakin stepped from the v ehicle clothed on a long black leather coat over his usual black suit and turtleneck, following Solo quickly into the building.

_"Messieurs, bienvenue_ welcome gentlemen,_ the French section two agent greeted them."This way,"he said leading them to the sitting room."By the way Monsieur Du Champ sends his regards." He was the head of U.N.C.L.E. Paris and had worked with them on the _Mind Control Affair._

They were shown to where Katiya Revchenkov sat, draped across a white chaisse, dressed in a sleeveless, shimmering red Oriental-style dress, slit up to her thigh, revealing her slender arms and legs.

When he saw her, Illya realized how little she had really changed, her body looked a little fuller, more voluptuous than his memories of her served him. She had to be in her forties now and was very much curved in all the right places. Seeing her somehow made his made his anger with her soften rather unexpectedly.

"Illya Nickovich," She smiled, gliding from the chaisse to greet him. She tried to kiss him on the cheek, but he avoided her, moving aside.

"Katiya, this is my partner Napoleon Solo. _We_," he said, emphasizing the word, "will be escorting you to the United States and to the C.I.A in Virginia."

_"Mademoiselle enchanteur_ enchanted Miss_, he bowed, kissing her hand ,drinking her in with his eyes...she was like a sip of cool water to a thirsty man. "If you will excuse me for a moment as I need to go over the security arrangements for our trip to the airport." Napoleon flashed his smile at Katiya and their eyes met for a brief second.

Illya and Katiya were now alone.

"So no welcome for an old friend Illuyshenka?" She smiled at him seductively.

"Katiya," he said refusing to use her patronymic name, normally spoken between acquaintances," my last experience with you was hardly one of friendship as I nearly ended up in jail. I was ordered out of the country and lucky not to end up in some gulag." he said without emotion.

"Oh Illya darling, that is history...what is past is past. Now you will take me to my new life in America," she crooned to him, walking over to a small record player; she switched it on, lifting the arm to the the black vinyl record. Illya recognized the music instantly, a recording of an old romantic Russian melody called "_I Met You."_ It was a very soulful version done on balalaika and guitar.

She poured each of them a glass of vodka, handing him his drink, toasting in Russian.

_"Dlya staryh druzyey i lyubitelyey_to old friendships and lovers._" she smiled as the balalaika played softly in the background.

"Illya brought his glass to his lips, swallowing the vodka, but not raising it to her toast.

"Oh Illuyshenka, is it so bad to see me again? We did have such wonderful times together, you cannot deny that?"

"No Katiya, that is true," he smiled at her ever so slightly, pouring himself another vodka and downing it.

She reached for him, placing her hand on his chest, kissing him on the lips, using her tongue to tempt him.


	2. Chapter 2

He remembered that kiss, those lips...her scent. Katiya's eyes met his and he found himself being drawn into them again, just as he had been when he was so young and foolish.

Illya suddenly pushed her away, realizing he felt nothing for removed her hand from where it rested against his chest and took a step back away from her.

"I am not who you I think I am Katiya. I am no longer a naive eighteen year old. I am still a spy but make no mistake there; I am very much accustomed to dealing with intrigues and misdirections and you cannot manipulate me as you once did. I am with someone now... a woman I love very much."

There was a subtle change in her demeanor, as she took on an air of haughtiness and indignation.

To Illya she was merely using that attitude as subterfuge, defending the ego he had just stepped on. Rejection never sat well with Katiya, and he anticipated she would now lash out at him in one way or another.

"And what kind of woman would want a man such as you...still skinny, over-educated, dull and witless!"

"Ouch...that "really" hurt," he said to her with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Is that the best you can muster? You are being quite predictable by the way, though I anticipated your insults would be better."

He realized the words he just spoke had just pushed her over the edge...

Katiya tried slapping him in the face, but he grabbed her by the wrist stopping her, flashing her an almost feral grin. He had just taken a turn at manipulating her and enjoyed it, and of course, she did not. He decided to give her another dig."

"She is a wonderful, intelligent and loving woman...quite superior." He answered, pushing her hand aside as he released it.

"And how is she in bed Illuyshenka? Surely not better than me?"She boasted proudly, flinging her long hair back over her shoulder."Admit it you could not resist me!"

Illya knew his Elliott most definitely surpassed Katiyas skills in that area. "Do not flatter yourself!" He announced to her that he had a son, suspecting how she would react to that as well.

Katiya's face went pale, she seemed to lose her composure ever so slightly and seemed visibly shaken.

"You...you have a son? With this woman?"

"Yes, his name is Demya Ilyich... he was born four months ago. And _we_ are very happy."

Revchenkov regained her composure, then lashed out berating him."Ah so the long suffering Illya Kuryakin, has found love and a family! How long do you think that will last you in this business?" She spoke with a bitterness to her voice that did surprise him, as she grabbed the bottle of vodka and poured another drink for herself.

"It does not matter Katiya, all that does is that my family is together now for as long as it may last, God willing."

"_GOD willing!_ _GOD_?" She blurted out. Do not tell me that you have found religion as well?" She laughed at him, swallowing her drink. "So what is the name of this wonderful creature who has turned your heart and mind?"

"Elliott."

_"Chto, chyort voz'mi, chto eto za imya, chto dlya zhenshehiny_what the hell kind of a name is that for a woman?_ Or is she really a woman? Maybe you lie and you like boys as was once rumored about you?

_"DOSTATOCHNO_ENOUGH!_" He growled at her, losing his temper. "She is _more_ woman than you could ever hope to be!" He turned from her, grabbing the bottle of vodka and leaving the room with it, angry with himself for having permitted her words to upset him.

Napoleon stood in the hall overhearing snippets, just a few words of the conversation between the two. He picked up the insults and the mention of Elliott's name, and was glad that he had not walked into the middle of this obviously unfriendly reunion. Illya passed him in the hall, saying nothing, as he headed out through the kitchen door to the garden in back. Seeing the hardened look on his face and the bottle in his hand, Solo guessed that it had not gone well at all between the two.

He walked into the sitting room just in time to see Katiya take a record from the phonograph and fling it, smashing it to pieces against a wall."

"Temper, temper," he clicked his tongue."That's not a very good way to soothe a savage Kuryakin?"

"How do you tolerate such a "nothing" for a partner as he is?" The female agent grumbled as she threw herself back on the chaise, ignoring him.

"Excuse me?" He said resisting the urge to engage her in defence his partner. It was not a good time to engage her in conversation, that was obvious and Napoleon abandoned that plan, heading instead to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, leaving the woman to cool down. "It's going to be a long night." he sighed to himself.

He poured a black coffee into a delicate porcelain cup and then one for his partner, balancing the saucers in his hands, heading out to join Illya in the back courtyard of the small cottage. He found him sitting on a bench in the garden and noticed smoke curling around his head, the bottle of vodka was on the ground at his feet. He was obviously playing the brooding Russian.

"I thought you quit smoking?" he asked, handing the coffee to the Russian.

"I did, but sometimes I have relapses. Smoking calms my nerves."

"I didn't think you had any nerves." Napoleon smiled.

_"Trés drôle_very funny,_"he answered in French.

"Just trying to help improve your state of mind...she got pretty nasty with you in there. Do you think she's going to be a problem?"

'I do not know. That was the initial sparring match; it remains to be seen if there will be a round two." Illya took one last drag on the cigarette then snuffed it out against the sole of his shoe, followed by a long sip of coffee.

"So is this playing out the way you thought it would?" Napoleon asked.

"Pretty much."

"Oh..._good_? Napoleon was incredulous," So you planned on having an argument with her then?"

"Napoleon, I did not plan on anything. She is up to something and tried as soon as she saw me to manipulate me as she had done years ago. I have a feeling this is not a simple matter of a defection. I would bet my life on it."

_"Sacre bleu_damn, Monsieur._..don't not tempt the fates with words like that will you? Now come on inside, I believe that our host agents have a quiche ready for dinner."

"Quiche? Sounds good to me." Illya smiled.

"Nothing like food to get his partner out of his one of his moods," Napoleon mused as they went back inside.

"You know your accent is still awful." Illya whispered.

"You know, I just may not speak French in front of you anymore."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"As Napoleon Bonaparte once said, "_The best way to keep one's word is not to give it."_That at least made Illya chuckle.

Katiya did not join them for dinner, instead Napoleon brought a piece of quiche up to her room where she was obviously sulking.

She thanked him for it, commenting that he was the only one here who was a true gentleman.

Napoleon decided it was safe to have a chat with her now."So what made you decide to defect?" he asked her, settling into a chair.

She looked at him warily. "What does it matter to you? It is between me and the C.I.A."

"I was just curious, we don't handle many defectors from Soviet Intelligence, especially one as lovely as you." he flashed her a dimpled smile.

"That is because they they send us to the ovens if we displease our masters... the thought of being burned alive in a blast furnace is deterrent enough for most."

"They really do that?"

"So it is told," Katiya wrapped herself around a bed pillow, her mood appearing more languid now.

"So have you displeased your masters?"

"In a manner of speaking, to say the least, they are not happy that I stole the plans for the experimental prototype miniaturizing an atomic device,"she smiled at him." I also have a personal reasons as well for wanting to get to the West."

"And that is?"

"I said it was personal... Napoleon."

"Would it perhaps have something to do with my partner?"

Katiya turned her face from him, not answering the question.

"Why Illya then...you requested his assistance? I am aware of what you did to him years ago. Seems rather strange to request the help of a man that you set up?"

"Again, my reasons are personal, however, I knew that he could be trusted, in spite of what happened between us."

"You lashed out rather viciously at him for someone you trust. I don't know what he was like years ago, but he really is a decent man."

"Ah, I think you understand the concept when I say, "a woman scorned" do you not? My treatment of him tonight was a mistake I think, yes? Needless to say, I knew that no matter what, Illya Kuryakin would still be a man of honor, putting his personal feelings aside to fulfill an assignment as always."

Katiya suddenly changed the subject away from Illya, "So Mr. Solo, tell me how handsome man of distinguished tastes such as yourself has ended up in the spy business?"

"Call me Napoleon," he said, moving from the chair to alongside her on the bed, distracting her from her own question, looking directly in her dark, alluring eyes.

"Ah Napoleon, such a famous name. Have you found your Josephine yet?" She asked coyly.

He moved closer to her. "Not quite yet," leaning in, he whispered his answer to her. "I'm still looking."

Katiya moved closer to him; their lips met as Napoleon pulled her to him in a long embrace, then finally released her.

_"Bozhe moí_my goodness!_" You have quite a talented tongue Napoleon!"

"There are other parts of me that show quite a bit of aptitude as well but that is for another time _Mademoiselle."_

Napoleon rose from the bed, straightening his jacket and tie.

"We'll be leaving tonight at midnight, so I suggest you get some rest as it's going to be a rather convoluted trip through Paris and will take some time."

Napoleon knew he left her feeling quite intrigued, and he smiled to himself; sure that kiss had distracted her attentions from Illya for the moment.

His partner seemed fairly calm during dinner, but Napoleon sensed his Illya was still nervous. He went back downstairs to tell him about his conversation with Katiya and found him in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes from dinner.

"Elliott has gotten you well trained," he commented on his partners domesticity.

"Tell me about it," Illya smiled,"she likes keeping things in order."

"So no more piles of periodicals and unwashed dishes in your apartment?"

Illya rolled his eyes, shaking his head."Not any more," he smiled.

"Look tovarisch, I just had an interesting conversation with Miss Revchenkov. She was very evasive when I asked her why she was defecting, saying her reasons were personal, but I got the distinct impression that "personal" had a lot to do with you...could she have "designs" on you again, maybe thinking she can work her way back into your good graces and your life?

Illya sighed. "I hope not?"

"You know we can end this right here. I can let another agent take over, from the sounds of it, she's crossed the point of no return and has to defect whether you're involved with the assignment or not."

Illya dried the last dish, putting it back in a cabinet. "No. I will see this through. We still need to find out what she is up to. The C.I.A. will not share any information with us once she is turned over to them, so best we glean what we can, while we can."

"Illya...watch your back."

"That my friend goes without saying, "The Russian answered.

Katiya came downstairs an hour or so later, finding Illya in the sitting room as usual, multi-tasking, going over the city map to refresh his memory and reading a French scientific journal that he must have picked up somewhere nearby as the safe house was in the "Latin Quarter,"an _"arrondissment_neighborhood" _so named for the multitudes of Latin speaking students attending the nearby Sorbonne University during the Middle Ages and there were plenty of bookstores nearby for him to have found one.

"Illya," she said his name," still burying your nose in those after all these years?"

"Some habits have not changed," he answered calmly, removing his reading glasses."

"I am sorry I was so rude to you earlier, I had no right. We got off on the _wrong foot _as the _Americanskiis_ say? It is you who have the right to be angry with me. Illuyshenka, could you ever forgive me for what I did to you?"

"Katiya, you said it yourself; it is history, what is past is past," he said dismissing it, as he really did not feel like discussing their past with her at the moment. Seeing that her demeanor had softened, he offered her a cup of tea from the pot he had sitting in front of him, which she gladly accepted.

"Tell me...your Elliott, what is she like?"

Katiya now watched as his demeanor changed as he spoke of Elliott Mc Gowan. His somber look softened as his face and eyes brightened and he made no attempt to hide his smile.

"She is petite, with fiery red hair and sometimes a temper to match it...she not Russian, but is Irish and is a bright, loving woman and a good mother. She is most stimulating both intellectually, emotionally and physically."

"An Irishwoman...interesting," she said ignoring his other comments. "Elliott is neither a woman's name, nor is it Irish...how did she come by it?"

"She was so named after a famous American by her father, who wanted a son, and got a daughter instead."

"Are you speaking of the man Ness...Elliott Ness?"

"Da."

"Was her father in intelligence work, such a name indicates an interest in law enforcement?"

"Mm-huh" he answered her, studying the map again.

Katiya took a leap in her questioning, " Does she work for U.N.C.L.E. as well?"

Illya hesitated then confirmed it.

"Interesting. I thought that your organization frowned upon such relationships...marriage, children?"

"Apparently not, and we are not married."

"Ah, there is hope then for you, Kuryakin," she smiled.

Napoleon walked in at that moment and was pleasantly surprised as there seemed to be no second round; Illya and Katiya were speaking together quietly drinking tea.

"Alright folks," he said announcing his presence,"time to review the details before we leave.

He pulled the map over from in front of his partner, tracing the route with his finger as he spoke.

"There'll be three cars, one lead, we will be in the middle and the third will bring up the rear. We'll cross the _Saint-Michel _bridge staying on _Rue du Palais_, travel across the _Île de la Cité _then over the _Pont au Change _to the right bank of the Seine, then take _Avenue Victoria to Boulevarde de Sébastopol._.. we stay on the boulevard and keep heading north-northwest through the Marais' 4th and 3rd arrondissments, up through the 10 th district, then through _Monmartre, Moulin Rouge_ and the Red light district, up to _Sacre Coure _then finally to _Le Bourget airport _at _Dugny,_ where our private jet will be waiting."

"If we traveled a more direct route, it would take us about a half hour but since we will be weaving through so many back streets of the _arrondissments,_ it will take us close to an hour." Illya added.

"_Le Bourget_. That is where Nureyev defected...how ironic? Katiaya mused.

"Get your things ready; we leave in twenty minutes." Napoleon said checking the time on his watch.

Illya grabbed his leather coat, heading out to the garden again, lighting up another cigarette; he opened his communicator."

"Channel D, overseas relay- Mc Gowan.

"Mc Gowan here."

"Elée, ma cherie_ Elliott, how are you?"

"_Illya...oh tu me manques mon amour_I miss you my love! _How goes it?"

"It could be worse. I will be glad to get this one over with."

"Is she, um...does she still...?"

He understood the tone in her voice. "Annushka do not worry, she is not an issue. Why are you letting this be of concern to you?"

"It's isn't"

"You are lying...it is," he said.

"Alright, 'tis. It's just that she's so bloody pretty!" Elliott finally blurted it out.

"You looked at the file?"

"Sorry, my curiosity kind of got the better of me."

"She is not prettier than you," he lowered his voice, "So stop thinking about her. I will be home soon and we will make passionate love together moya lyubov! You are the only one for me...now tell me how is my son?

"Happy, healthy and eats like a horse, just like his father!"

"Anya,I have to go now. I love you...do not forget that."

"I love you too,"

"Kuryakin out."

Illya turned to see Katiya walking away from him. She must have overheard some of his conversation.

.

The French agents carried Katiyas only suitcase into the lead Mercedes, then Illya covered Napoleon as he escorted her out into their car. The woman clutched the file containing the plans to the prototype tightly in her arms.

Kuryakin climbed behind the wheel; he was nervous and on edge not just because of Katiya and the questions about her motives that remained unanswered but the fact there existed a strong possibility they might have a run-in with the KGB. He was seen by them as a traitor, though it was their own government who sent him to U.N.C.L.E. the KGB refused to acknowledge it. Though he still held his Soviet citizenship; he would be at risk along with Katiya.

It was just a few minutes past midnight when the convoy of identical black Mercedes-Benzes moved out slowly onto the empty cobblestoned street that was void of any traffic. Given the time of night and the fact that it was the beginning of January, it worked to their advantage since it was not exactly the busy season in Paris.

The cars drove off into the night, heading toward the _Boulevard Saint-Michel,_ then crossing over the Seine on _Pont Saint-Michel _they were now on _Île de la Cité_, the larger of the two islands in the middle of the river, when Solo's communicator went off.

"Monsieur Solo we have picked up a tail...about five minutes ago. Grey Volvo."said the agent in the rear car.

Illya contacted the lead vehicle on his communicator," Move it, rear car has says we have a tail!"

The convoy picked up speed as they headed across the Île, unable to reroute as there were few options for diversion and they could not risk being stopped on the island. Suddenly there was an explosion and the rear car burst into flames. The other two cars floored it as they headed towards the next bridge when Illya saw another vehicle come from the right, smashing into the lead car. He hit the brake, swerving onto the sidewalk and around the wrecks then floored the gas again and turned right onto _Quai de la Course._

"What are you doing? You are going the wrong way! This is one way!" Katiya screamed.

"I know!" Illya yelled back at her, hoping he could escape their pursuers in the narrow. Kuryakin swerved avoiding oncoming cars as their horns blared.

Just as they reached the _Arcole _bridge another car broadsided the Mercedes. Solo, Kuryakin and the woman were out of the vehicle instantly, running past the driver of the other car, who was shouting curses at them in French, Shots rang out from behind them, hitting the Frenchman, killing him.

The pursuit car tore around the wrecked Mercedes heading towards them; the only choice the three had now was to jump into the frigid waters of the Seine, otherwise they would be run or shot down on the bridge.

Illya grabbed Katiya by the waist flinging her over the railing of the bridge then as he and Napoleon stole a quick glance at each other, they threw themselves into the river after her, thirty feet below.


	3. Chapter 3

Illya Kuryakin felt the freezing cold water envelop him, his long leather coat shielding him from the initial shock but then dragged at him as he struggled to swim upwards. He pulled it off then paddled hard until his head broke the surface of the river, gasping for air; the frigid air temperature filling his lungs with a sharp pain.

The green tint of the Seine appeared black and lifeless as the myriad of city-lights reflected in its shimmering, slowly moving surface. He turned his head quickly, searching for his companions, when he spotted Katiya treading water a few yards from him. There was no sign of Napoleon.

Several armed men were coming down the stone stairs that ran from the bridge to the rivers edge on the right bank and Illya quickly paddled towards Katiya, yelling for her to swim against the current and get beneath the low suspension bridge.

They were not completely out of range as their pursuers began to fire their weapons at them again; the bullets zipping past them into the water.

Suddenly he realized a large flat-bottomed tourist boat, _a bateaux-mouche,_ was heading directly towards them. Illya made it to Katiyas side just as the boat moved slowly beneath the Pont d' Arcole, and he seized the opportunity to grab hold of one of the boat's heavy mooring ropes dragging along its starboard side in the water.

Wrapping one arm around it and his other arm around Katiya, he let the large boat pull them along, until they were both able to hoist themselves up and onto the deck. They grabbed each other, shaking violently from the cold, amazed that the few people on the boat paid them no mind. There were throw blankets lying folded on some of the seats and they grabbed a few, wrapping them around themselves to fend off the the chill of the air on their dripping wet clothes.

"We have to get off this thththing." Illya's teeth chattered.

"It should make a stop on Île St. Louis," she whispered.

Illya's communicator was in the breast pocket of his leather coat and his special was now somewhere at the bottom of the Seine and Katiya had no weapon, leaving them cut off and completely defenseless.

"Once we get off we will have to mmmake our way to the _Rive Gauche _along the quays and to UNCLE headquarters...ddo you have any money on you?"

Katiya shook her head, then opening her blanket she reached inside the front of her ruined rad satin dress, she pulled out the file. "

This is the only thing I grrrabbed." She stuttered.

He smiled."Well that counts for something"

They sat together in an empty row of seats, Illya draping another blanket over their them as he wrapped his arm around Katiyas shoulders.

She lay her head against him as they shivered, trying to share their body heat. "Do you think we lost them Illuyshenka?"

"Hopefully,but that remains to be seen."

The river boat moved steadily against the current, passing under _Pont Louis Phillipe, _then a short distance up the river, it came to a stop beneath the _Pont Marie._

They looked around wondering why they had stopped, seeing couples on board suddenly begin to encircle each other, kissing passionately.

"I am so sorry I pulled you into this...it is my fault." Katiya reached up touching her hand to his face, looking into his eyes as the twinkling of the lights from the quays danced in them. "Illya...Illuyshenka."

He looked down into the darkness of her eyes and kissed her hard...the memories of their lovemaking from so many years ago filling him. Katiya returned his embrace. They stopped for a second, then kissed again hungrily this time. Just as instantly as it had begun, their amorous moment ended and they huddled together not saying a word.

The _bateaux-mouche_ moved on, finally anchoring at a set of steps along the right bank at _Qaui d'Anjou _near the _Rue de Poulletier_. From there they could make their way along the quays cutting across the island to the 5th _arrondisment _where Illya could contact headquarters for help.

They stepped off the boat, receiving some stares as they were still wrapped in their blankets. They were the only ones disembarking and when they made it up the top of the landing at the quay, Illya heard a voice speak...one that he had not heard in many years.

_"Nu razve eto ne sypriz...Illya Nickovich_Well is this not a surprise, Illya Nickovich,_" said Viktor Karkoff.

.

Napoleon held his breath as the current pulled him away from the bridge, dragging him in an undertow. He battled with the river as it tried to suck him down, until finally he won, breaking through to the surface, coughing and gasping for air. The cold was a shock for him, making it difficult to swim to the tree-lined promenade that ran along the river bank. He pulled himself up from the water, looking around, scanning for any signs of his companions. He wandered along along the promenade until he found a flight of steps leading up to the street above.

His teeth were chattering as he made his way back down the quay, he heard the pulsating sirens and saw the flashing blue lights a the passed him as he neared the spot where the Mercedes had been abandoned at the _Pont d'Arcole_.

The police were going through the vehicle when he walked up to them, his arms wrapped around his chest in an effort to keep himself warm. Napoleon called out to the man who seemed to be the officer in charge.

_"Excusez-moi Inspecteur. Mon nam est Napoléon Solo. Je suis avec la Commande Réseau Uni de la Loi et L'application et J'ai besoin de votre aide_Excuse me inspector. My name is Napoleon Solo. I am with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement and this is was my car..."_

He took his damp wallet from his pocket, pulling his ID card, flashing it to the officer.

_"Oui Monsieur, Je suis familier avec U.N.C.L.E._ yes sir, I am familiar with UNCLE. _There were two other car wrecks on _Boulevard Saint-MIchel_ and the _Quai de la Course_ , do you know of these Monsieur?"

"Yes I do... inspector?"

"Pardon...I am Inspector Michel Girard of the Paris Sûrete."

"Those vehicles were part of a convoy" Napoleon paused," we were transporting a Soviet citizen to the United States for sanctuary. Have you rescued anyone from the river, a blond man and a dark haired woman?"

"No I'm sorry Monsieur Solo, no one has been found in the Seine. Perhaps we need to search further downstream?

"Inspector I need to contact my office, would it be possible to...?"

"_Absolument Monsieur_, please follow me."

The Inspector found a blanket for Napoleon, taking him to one of the squad cars and to the local office of the Sûrete where Solo contacted headquarters. Rene Du Champ sent a car for him.

.

Illya suddenly felt the sharp pain of a fist striking his jaw, knocking him out cold, as he realized it was his one-time mentor Viktor Karkoff who spoke to him.

He finally woke, finding himself tied to a chair. Katiya was conscious, tied to another chair opposite him, with a large, bloody gash on her forehead.

"Katiya, I am sorry. I seem to have failed miserably in keeping you safe." he spoke softly.

"It is alright Illya. I had hoped this would not happen but deep in my heart I knew KGB would not let me slip through their fingers. It is I who am sorry they now have you as well."

At that moment several armed men entered the room. Both Illya and Katiya silenced themselves, knowing the fate that awaited them; there was only one end for traitors to the Soviet Union. Execution. It was just a question of when, now or later, but it was guaranteed, just as was that the sun rose at dawn each day.

Finally Viktor Karkoff appeared with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"It has been many years Illya Nickovich," he said, blowing smoke into Illya's face.

"I would have thought you had retired by now Viktor...you are getting a little long in the tooth for this business are you not? An old man like you should be smart enough to know when it is time to retire?"

That earned him a slap across the face.

"I see you have not changed Illya. You still have a smart mouth, no matter, the _Komitel _will be pleased that I was sent to retrieve one traitor and now will come home with two."

"Viktor" Katiya pleaded with him." let him go! You only need me. Illya has done nothing to betray our country...he works for U.N.C.L.E. as the Soviet representative. It was approved by GRU and you know it. Please!"

Viktor backhanded Katiya."Shut up you filthy whore! I am KGB now and those idiots in GRU do not matter. You and Kuryakin will both die as traitors."

Illya lashed out with his leg, kicking Viktor in the knee, knocking him off balance.

Karkoff turned on him, pummeling Illya with his fists, until his face was bloodied from the beating.

"GRU had no right to do what they did with you Kuryakin...giving you, one of our own to the enemy without the least expectation of you spying for your homeland. It was your duty to provide us with information and you have done nothing. You _ARE _a traitor."

"It also would not have something to do with the problem I had here in Paris eleven years ago would it?"Illya mumbled as his lip began to swell.

"Most definitely," Viktor snarled. "Your stupidity disgraced me and now I will have my revenge by being the instrument of your death."

"Viktor, t was my fault, not his." Katiya pleaded. " I set Illya up! Do not punish him for my mistake? Please, I beg of you?"

Karkoff ignored her, turning to his two KGB agents in the room.

"Ready the truck for transport to Orly Airport. The flight for _Moskva_ leaves within the hour." He turned his attention back to Illya and Katiya."You two will be going back to Mother Russia in style like so much cargo on transport plane, no one will know you are even there. You go to KGB headquarters and then after interrogation, you will be publicly executed!"

"What, no first class tickets?" Illya quipped, earning him a punch in the stomach from one of their guards.

"You never learned when to keep quiet,"Viktor smiled as he watched Kuryakin doubled over in pain.

Viktor Karkoff and his agents then left them alone.

"Katiya..." Illya whispered to her," how tightly are your hands bound?"

"I cannot move them at all... you?"

"Mine are a little loose," he said struggling with his bonds. He managed after only a few minutes to get his hands free, although his wrists were bloody from his efforts.

He untied Katiya, then surveyed the room; they were in some sort of storage shed with only the one door and the windows were boarded. Illya looked up, seeing a skylight in the roof above them. He shimmied up one of the columns, balancing himself carefully as he walked across one of the support beams, then lowered himself hanging upside down reaching out his hands, calling for Katiya to come take them.

She stood grasping his wrists with her hands as he managed to pull her up enough to climb up, using his body to get to the beam, then swung himself up to it again, helping steady Katiya to stand.

"I will give you a leg up, try to reach the skylight and open it."

She stepped onto his clasped hands as he lifted her up towards the skylight and she opened it then pulled herself up and through easily.

Illya leapt up grabbing the edge of the skylight then power-lifted himself up and through as well.

"I see you are still good at gymnastics," she said quietly.

"Lucky for both of us," he said, grabbing her by the hand. But then she stopped for a moment, removing her heels. They made their way along the roof of what now looked like a large warehouse, heading across to a lower roof then jumping down to the ground.

Katiya stopped, trying to put her shoes back on, but Illya grabbed them, ripping the pointed heels off making it easier to run in them, he then handed them back to her to put on.

"Those were expensive shoes,"she hissed.

"Worth more than your life?" He said grabbing her hand. pulling her with him as he took off at a dead run into the darkness. They ran for about fifteen minutes until Katiya begged him to stop as she was having difficulty catching her breath.

"I know this place," he whispered. It is _Jardin de Plants_! He took a moment to get his bearings, realizing they were south of the Menagerie. We must keep moving...they will soon discover we are missing. I do not know if Napoleon is alive or not but if he is, he will be tracking us." He raised his hand, pointing to a button on the sleeve of his suit jacket. "It is a homing device and I activated it as soon as I was free. I only hope help arrives before KGB gets to us again."

Suddenly there were lights flashing, voices shouting,and dogs barking in the distance back by the warehouse. Viktor had discovered his prisoners were gone.

Illya grabbed Katiya by the hand again, dragging her with him, as they heard the dogs and the voices getting closer. They ran through a long promenade of skeletal trees, bordered by rows of high hedges behind them. It was too dark and Illya was not sure exactly where they were in the park, when they found themselves suddenly in a bad place, the entrance to the the yew hedged maze called the labyrinth. They could not go back and they could not enter the maze as it would surely trap them.

The dogs were almost there, as Illya heard a helicopter approaching in the distance... there was no where to go. Again he had failed her.

"Illya NIckovich, you are truly what the _Americanskiis _call a pain in the ass!" Viktor called to him," You are right, I am getting too old for this, my patience is wearing thin. I will not wait to take you both back to Russia."

Karkoff raised his pistol towards them.

_"Do svidaniya Illya Nickovich Kuryakin...ty byl moin velchanshim provalom_goodbye Illya Nickovich Kuryakin...you were my greatest failure. I think it is time for me to rid myself of you forever, it is time for you to die now."_

Karkoff fired the Tokarov directly at him, but Katiya dove in front, taking the hit directly in the chest; she fell to the ground at Illya's feet.

Shots rang out from the helicopter, not at Kuryakin but at the KGB, taking out several of them. Karkoff cursed as he retreated, disappearing into the darkness.

Illya was oblivious to the helicopter as it landed nearby, as well as the to the figure who emerged from it, walking towards him. He knelt holding Katiya in his arms, cradling her as her life began to slip away.

"Illuysha...I am sorry, " she coughed.

"Why Katiya...I must know, why did you betray me so long ago?" he whispered to her.

"I tried to get you out of it all because I loved you. I hoped they would just put you behind a desk where you would be safe."

"He did not know what to say to her; he had no idea."

"Kiss me...one last time, my love?"

Illya hesitated, then drew her to him, tenderly kissing the lips of a woman he had once loved."

"I must tell you another truth, we have a..." Then she was gone. He lowered her body to the ground, closing his eyes.

Napoleon stood quietly behind his partner. putting his hand on the Russian's shoulder.

"Let's go home _tovarisch._"

Illya walked along the quay several days later...stepping onto the _Pont Marie_. Stopping at the middle of the bridge, he leaned quietly on the railing with his hands crossed, remembering that night. Here he had found a love he thought lost long ago and now she was gone forever. Katiya had returned to him and gave her life to save his, knowing he no longer loved her. He dropped a long stem rose into the cold waters below him. Illya Kuryakin had been across all the bridges of Paris but this one, and now this, the last, would hold sad memories for him forever.

"But it is history now, what's past is past." he reminded as he steeled himself against his emotions. He flicked his cigarette into river.

.

Elliott heard the the lock click on the apartment door, putting her hand instantly on her special that lay under the pillow. Then she heard the security alarm then being reset and she relaxed, knowing that he was home.

"Annushka, I will be right in," he called out quietly into the bedroom, knowing she was awake.

She breathed a sigh of relief that he was home safe. Illya had been gone a little more than a week, longer than he had anticipated, but by comparison to many other assignments, it was only a short time. She had last spoken to him at the start of his mission.

He walked into the bedroom, stopping a moment looking down at Demya, and silently undressing himself, Illya crawled into the bed, lying naked beside her. He said nothing as he began to kiss her on the neck, his hands gently roaming across her body and making love to her as he had promised. When he climaxed with what sounded like a painful sob; he buried his head into the crook of her neck. It was then that she realized that he was crying.

"I love you Elliott," he whispered to her.

"I know Illuysha..."

She never spoke to him again about the mission or of Katiya Revchenkov, nor did he ever mention them either.

Some things were best left unsaid...there are some secrets that must still be kept.


	4. Chapter 4

A week had passed since Solo and Kuryakin's return from the failed assignment in Paris that had resulted in the death of the Russian Katiya Revchenkov. The documents that the defecting agent had carried were back in the possession of the KGB but until their scientists analyzed them; they would not know that an extremely vital page was missing from the data. It had been destroyed by Kuryakin after he had committed it to memory.

No one knew that...no one. Illya had left that little tid-bit out of his final report on the affair, knowing that information would complicate matters more than need be. Better that no one had the information, not the Soviet Union or the United States.

Napoleon knew that his partner had been deeply affected by the death of his former lover. The passionate kiss that he had witnessed between Illya and Katiya as she lay dying made him wonder what had happened while they had gone missing.

Illya said he had no feelings for the woman but his partner's mood hung over him like a pall two weeks later might have indicated something to the contrary as he was very somber and contemplative.

It was none of his business what had taken place between the two but Napoleon found himself feeling a bit uncomfortable thinking that something had, mostly because how it might affect Elliott. He was sure that what, if anything happened between the two former lovers, would be one of the secrets that Illya he kept from her

.

Kuryakin was driving back from Langley in McLean Virginia, on the outskirts of the capital, having attended a meeting examining the failed mission. He testified to the C.I.A. about the events of that night with a representative from the U.N.C.L.E. legal department at his side.

Bill Klemm tried his best to convince "The Agency" that Kuryakin had conspired to prevent the woman's defection, but failed And the "proverbial shit" had not hit the fan as had been threatened to Illya by Klemm.

Illya was absolved of any wrongdoing and summarily dismissed without so much as a "thank you" from them, though he had nearly been killed trying to save Katiya and she lost her life saving his, not to mention the four other U.N.C.L.E. agents who had lost their lives as well.

But it didn't surprise the Russian when nothing was said to him; the C.I.A. was not prone to showing gratitude for his efforts in the past, so why would this be any different?

To do that would acknowledge an acceptance of Illya Kuryakin as one of the "good guys." That they were not ready to do nor did he suspect they would ever would be. But no matter, their acceptance of him was immaterial. It was unnecessary to the performance of his job and would continue to "help save the world" along with his partner without their approval.

He did not function in the world of covert operations for the thanks or accolades; both he and his partner did it because it was the right thing to do and because it was their job. It was as simple as that.

.

It was late when Kuryakin was escorted from the C.I.A. buildings to his car and as he headed out towards I-95 for the 236 mile trip back to New York and turned on the car radio. It would be roughly a four hour trip for him; he was tired from the tedious meeting and having to deal with Klemm had left him aggravated. It bothered him to have to keep reliving his last hours with Katiya and her death in his arms.

He was not looking forward to the journey homewards, but only the destination. He just wanted to get back, have a drink, kiss Elliott and his son, then lie down in bed and go to sleep. The sooner he could forget about the whole affair; the happier he would be and now that the hearing was over he could file it away in his mind and heart and get on with his job and life with his little family.

There was a weather alert on the radio of a fast approaching snowstorm that was heading up the coast and he watched the first flakes began to fall heavily as he turned, driving up the access ramp to I-95.

"This is a big one folks...a real nor'easter. Snow falls of up to several feet are expected with gale force winds. Police and emergency services advise that unless you have to travel; then you should stay off the roads. That's right, stay in folks, snuggle up with that special someone or just read a good book because... "

Illya turned the dial on the radio, searching for some music to listen to but he found nothing that seemed to suit his mood and he switched it off with a sigh.

The trip would be an uncomfortable one as the heater in the motor-pool car had ceased to work as soon as he had left Langley, making him wonder if Klemm had someone tinker with the car just to annoy him. He sighed again, thinking it would interminable drive..

The snow was already fairly deep by the time he reached central New Jersey, driving had become difficult but he pushed on, wanting to get back to New York in hopes of getting there before the worst of the storm arrived.

The interstate was nearly empty when more car troubles started, the engine began to sputter. He checked the gas gauge but it was fine, and after looking his travel map, he left the interstate, finding himself on the outskirts of a small rural hamlet called Hightstown. Everything was closed and locked down tighter than a bank vault when the car finally died on him.

"NO!" He yelled, slamming his fist on the dashboard. The mechanics at the motor pool were going to hear it from him on this one! Then again he wondered if it was Klemm's doing.

He popped the hood release, then got out of the car bundling his coat around him.

_"Chyort!_hell!_" He cursed, looking at the engine. What was the point, it was too dark for him to see or do anything. He slammed down the hood angrily, grabbing his communicator from his coat pocket as he walked to the car door. Then suddenly he went flying up into the air, slipping and falling backwards, landing on his butt. His communicator disappeared out of his hand somewhere out into the snow.

_"Yyyebat'!"_fffuck!_ He cursed out loud. Then getting up and brushing himself off, Illya began walking into town hoping he would find some help or at least a pay phone.

He silently cursed again when a blast of wind slammed him as he turned up his collar, burying his hands in his pockets as he headed down the street. His maps had indicated a diner somewhere nearby and hoped that it had not closed because of the storm.

There was a light ahead and he walked briskly towards as it shined like a beacon through the wind-driven snow that stung against his face. He felt as though he had a bit of the "Solo luck" shine upon him when he reached a lamp post as it was it was directly in front of the diner he sought and found the place still open!

He stepped through the quaint blue and white storm door located at the corner of the three story brick building, noticing the name of the place. "The Blue Swan," and odd image of a frozen swan in the middle of a lake in the storm suddenly came to his mind with a chuckle as he walked inside, brushing the snow from his hair and shoulders. His feet were fairly numb and wet but there was nothing he could do about that.

His wool coat was hung on the rack and he headed automatically to the back towards a booth in the rear, giving him a full view of both the kitchen and front doors, passing a waitress who stood behind the counter. The place was simple with a care-worn linoleum floors, booths, a counter and a low decorative painted tin ceiling.

"Hi honey," she smiled," you're out on a lousy night."

He nodded to her then thought, "warmth," sighing to himself as he settled into his seat, noting that she appeared to be the only one there. She was thin, not handsome but not unattractive and had the look about her of one who worked hard for a living, carrying here cares in her eyes.

She walked to the booth carrying a coffee pot and placing a mug on the table in front of him automatically pouring him a cup.

"Menu?"

"Yes please, thank you." he smiled at her.

He placed his order from the limited selection and she appeared minutes later with his bowl of chicken soup and chicken salad sandwich, bringing them from back in the kitchen, instead of receiving the order through the pass-through window from the cook.

"Excuse me miss, are you the only person working here tonight?"

"You guessed huh?" she smiled."The cook never made it in and neither did the other waitress. If you hadn't shown up; I probably would have closed for the night. Say I didn't see your car...you didn't walk here did you?"

"Yes unfortunately, I did. My car broke down a few blocks up the street, yet fortunate for me that you were still open."

She smiled, pouring more coffee into his mug. "They say things happen for a reason."

"But my fortune, is your misfortune. I have prevented you from going home on such a stormy night?"

The waitress laughed."No, not really. I live upstairs, all I have to do is lock up and take the back stairs and I'm home sweet home...oh wow." She suddenly seemed concerned, "You could be some sort of perv or an axe murderer? I shouldn't have told you that."

It was Illya's turn to laugh, "I have been inferred to be many things in my life but never a pervert or an axe murderer." He held out his hand introducing himself as Elias Manning, giving her a cover name.

She reached out shaking his hand. "Ny name's Tillie, Tillie Pederson and I actually own this humble establishment. So what brings you to Mercer County on a night like this?"

Illya nodded, swallowing a bite of his sandwich."I was on my way back home to my family in New York from a trip in the Washington area. I was hoping to beat the worst of the storm but my car no longer running will not permit me that success."

"You talk kinda funny. You're not an American are you? You sound kinda Russian?" She asked sitting on the bench opposite him in the booth pouring a cup of coffee for herself.

He hesitated. " You are correct, I am not an American."

"Where you from?"

"I was born in Poland..."

"Really? Manning's not a Polish name?

"The family name was Mankowicz. it was changed after moving to England, which explains my unusual accent."

"Oh. How old were you when you left Poland?"

"Young." He kept his answers as short and vague as possible.

"So have you done a lot of travelling then?"

"A fair amount. I work for an import company." Telling her a standard cover story. He finished the last bite of his meal, pulling out his wallet.

"Nah don't bother." She stopped him with a wave of her hand. "It's on the house...nice just to have a little company."

"No, that is not right. You are open for business," he said laying a twenty on the table, then stood up intending to head out into the storm again. He resigned himself to having to stay in the car until morning.

"Tillie I have kept you from closing up long enough. Could you tell me where there is a payphone and perhaps the name of a towing company? And lastly is there a motel in town?"

"There's a pay phone two blocks from here but you're not going to get a tow truck to come out tonight. This town closes up tighter than a clam at night even in good weather and with this storm the tow trucks will be hooked up and plowing the roads trying to stay ahead of it. And sorry there's no motels or hotels here. Look...tell you what, you seem like a really decent guy. You're welcome to sleep on my sofa?"She smiled, chuckling to him."and I promise I'm not a pervert or an murdered either!"

Illya took her up on the offer as it was a far better alternative to sleeping in a cold car. She locked the front door closing up for the night and led him up the stairs to her apartment.

She brought out sheets a blanket and pillow making up the couch for him.

"Thank you," Illya said as he loosened his tie."this is very kind of you."

"There isn't enough kindness in this world," she said."sometimes everyone seems so busy rushing around worrying about their little piece of it; they forget to be nice to each other. I figure doing something decent for a stranger once in a while just helps things to be a little better, maybe you can spread it, a little kindness that is, and do a favor for a stranger, kind of passing it along. You know what I mean?"

"Tillie, that is a very nice philosophy. I will have to remember that."

"Say, you said that you had a family? They'll probably be worrying about you...would you like to call your wife and let her know where you're at?"

"I could not impose, you have been generous enough and besides that would be a long distance call for you."

"Nonsense honey! You call your wife and let her know you're alright! Okay?"

She handed the him the ivory touch-tone princess phone and then left the room, heading to her kitchen to give him a moment of privacy.

He dialed his home telephone number having left out the detail to Tillie that he was not actually married.

"Hallo?"

"Annushka," He greeted Elliott with his pet name for her.

"Illya where the hell are ye? They were expecting ye in headquarters hours ago and with this storm? I I was getting a bit concerned. Don't tell me Klemm bollacks'd ye up?"

"Anya I am fine...really. It was more like a poorly maintained car that did me in. It broke down in New Jersey and I will not be able to have it towed until the storm passes. I lost my communicator somewhere in the snow...never mind how. That is why I did not contact headquarters."

"It's a relief yer alright. Napoleon was getting ready to send out the dog sleds!"

Illya laughed. "I am spending the night above a very hospitable diner. The owner is kindly putting me up on her sofa. How is Demya...is he asleep?"

"Finally got him to go down. That _buachaill _is a handful, he puts anything he can get his hands on into his mouth... Illya, I think Demmy might've said his first word this morning! "Da" He keeps saying it over and over, non-stop. Maybe he's missin' his daddy a wee bit or maybe it's Russian? I'm not quite certain."

"Really?" Illya said, a little disappointment in his voice that he had possibly missed his son's first word.

"Anya, I am not sure when I will get home, could you please let Mr. Waverly and Napoleon know my situation and have the motor pool send out a replacement vehicle when the storm passes. I am at the Blue Swan diner in Hightstown New Jersey, that would be most helpful my love. And how are you? Are you alright?

"Missing you already darlin'. it's a cold night so I guess I'll have ta throw on an an extra blanket, seeing as how I won't have my hot-blooded Russian snuggling up ta me."

"Oh so that is all I am good for, a bed warmer?" he said facetiously.

"Well, there's a few other things I can think of. Good night my love, sleep well."

"Kiss our son for me. _Spokoyiny nochi lyubimoy_good night beloved," _He said, then hung up the phone.

Tillie appeared a few minutes later from the kitchen carrying two mugs of hot coco.

"Do you treat all your customers so well? He smiled, accepting his and taking a sip.

"Only poor souls stranded in snow storms honey. Did you tell your wife where you were sleeping?"

"Of course. She trusts me to behave myself and has no doubts of how much I love her."

"That's real nice to hear," she said as she curled into a barcalounger opposite the sofa. "Shame I can't meet my mister right. Where did you meet your wife?"

Illya decided not to complicate the story any further."We work together. I suppose it was love at first sight."

"Wow, I didn't think that really ever happened! And you living in New York city. Would you believe I live this close and have never been in to see the big Christmas tree, much less Rockefeller center or Radio City. Wow, just once I'd like to see all that," she mused.

"And what about you Tillie? I find it hard to believe that someone such as yourself is unattached?"

"I guess I just haven't had the time. I'm in the diner seven days a week. I inherited it from my dad, this place was his dream, so I kinda have to keep the family tradition alive. It doesn't leave me much time for a social life."

"There's not any of your customers that you've taken a fancy to?"

"Nope. I'm afraid my customers, few that they are, are just some locals and transients passing through town."

"You never know Tillie, if someone had told me a little over a year ago that I would now have a family I would have told them they were quite mad...that was something that was not even a consideration in my line of work." He paused a moment thinking about that fact. "So you never know my dear." He winked at her, "It happened for me, it could happen for you too."

"Thank you Elias, that was a real nice thing for you to say," she said swallowing the last of her coco.

"What's your wife like?"

Illya grinned as he described Elliott to her. "She is a wonderful mother to my son and I am a fortunate man to have such a woman in my life."

"How old is your little boy?"

"Very close to five months."

"Oh so he's really new...what's his name?"

"Um...er, Jimmy, his name is Jimmy."

They chatted for a little while longer until Tillie finally announced that she had to be up early to prepare the day's specials for the diner.

"I am an early riser,"Illya said. "Perhaps I can offer you some help?

"We'll see about it in the morning," Tillie yawned." Good night Elias." Tillie walked into her bedroom, locking the door behind her.

Illya chose to sleep in his t-shirt and pants. His socks and shoes had been deposited by a radiator for the night. Tillie's apartment was a little chilly but nothing compared to outside. He turned off the lamp, tucked his special beneath the pillow then pulled the coverings up about himself, thankful that he was not stuck sleeping in the car as he listened to the wind howling.

Illya woke at four thirty in the morning, hearing the click of the lock opening on Tillie's door.

"Good morning." he said softly, trying not to startle her.

"Oh...good morning. You _are _an early riser aren't you?"

"I try to be." he smiled, standing up as he put his shirt on. Then as he started folding up the bedding, he discreetly tucked his special in the waist of his pants at his back.

"Leave it."she said," you may be here longer than you want to be, that snow is still coming down."

"No offence," he answered," but I have already stayed longer than I wish. Perhaps the storm will lighten up?"

"None taken" she smiled. "the bathroom is down the hall, there's extra towels already out."

By quarter past five Illya was down in the diner helping Tillie prepare the food for the day's menu...chili, shepherds pie and beef stew, hearty fare for a cold winter day, yet they were in surprisingly small quantities for a diner.

Tillie had all her recipes written on file cards making it easy for him to prepare and combine the ingredients.

"You do good work, I think you're hired." she said, surveying how he had diced and separated the meats, carrots and potatoes.

Illya wiped his hands on the white apron he'd wrapped around his waist."That is not what I am told at home my _Elise_ has been trying to teach me to cook. She is an excellent one but does not prepare things as you, her method is a pinch of this, a taste of that. Your recipes read like a formula. It can be followed with precision to gain the same results each time you prepare the dish. I prefer this method as it is very sensible and organized."

"Elias you sound just like a scientist...what did you say you do for a living exactly?" she asked a little suspiciously.

"I never did," he answered as he continued to chop the vegetables for the stew.

Tillie put two large pressure cookers on the stove, one for the stew the other for the chili, then put the Shepherd's pie in separate ceramic dishes on a tray to bake in the oven. Everything was cooking nicely.

"Go sit," she said, "you've earned your keep, how does pancakes, sausage and scrambled eggs sound?"

"Wonderful," Illya answered as he was beginning to feel a little hungry," but please I really must help?"

Tllie waved her finger at him. "No, you've done enough. Tell you what, you can make the coffee... you don't need a formula for that do you?"

"No Tillie, I think I can manage that."

A half hour later Illya and Tillie were sitting together in a booth eating their breakfast; Illya remarked how wonderful her cooking was, making light chatter, they cleaned up after finishing and then she unlocked the door to the diner.

"Okay, we're open for business!" she announced. "Hey it's stopped snowing," she said peeking out through the window. I could actually get some customers today if I'm lucky. Maybe you could stick around and help me with the breakfast crowd writing up a few orders for me while I man the kitchen. I kind of lied to you yesterday. I'm the only one who works here, being the waitress, head cook and bottle washer all at the same time."

"My company is sending a car for me once the roads are clear, so in the meantime I will be glad to be of service to you Miss Pederson." he smiled, clicking his heels together.

"You know you are a strange guy, Elias Manning...if that's really your name?"

Illya sighed, seeing no need to continue with the pretense. "No it is not, you are right."

He pulled out his wallet, removing his ID card and handed it to her.

"My name is Illya Kuryakin and I work for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement."

"You're a cop? And your name is Russian isn't it?"

"The answer to the first question is, "sort of" and the second is yes, I am Russian."

"So why all the deception? Were you afraid I was the boogie man?" she asked sliding onto a stool at the counter.

"No," he smiled, "but it is standard procedure in my line of work. One can never be too careful with one's identity."

"Oh so you're like undercover?"

"That is a fair assessment."

"And the story about the wife and kids I suppose is..."

"A partial truth. I am not married but I do live with the wonderful woman I told you about, and we do have a five month old son named Demya."

The door to the diner suddenly opened and several young men walked in bringing a gust of cold air with them; none of them were dressed well for harsh the weather. One pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up as he looked around the diner, scanning the place suspiciously.

He eyed Illya and Tillie then reached inside his leather jacket, suddenly pulling out a revolver and pointing it straight at them.


	5. Chapter 5

The black sedan pulled up slowly, parking in front of the Blue Swan diner. There were three New Jersey State Trooper squad cars piled in the newly plowed road out in front, as well as an ambulance, all with their lights flashing silently. A few on-lookers with snow shovels in their hands were clearing the sidewalk half heartedly, more interested in what was going on inside the diner.

Napoleon Solo and the driver, section three agent named John Ieuan Rhys approached the diner, ducking under the yellow police tape.

"Excuse me, gentleman,"spoke a detective standing just inside the door," this is an active crime scene...no press allowed."

Napoleon flashed his ID card to the man who permitted him entrance while Rhys stood guard outside the door.

"Why would U.N.C.L.E. be interested in a small town hold up?"

"Because," Napoleon pointed out" that blond man sitting on the stool is my partner." Illya was seated at the counter holding a bloody towel to his head fending off the attentions of a first aide squad technician.

"I am alright! " he insisted," please leave me alone?"

"Look mister...you got shot in the head and you are bleeding. That is not alright in my book! So will you just let me do my job?" the tech insisted.

There was a woman standing next to him, crying."I can't believe you killed them? We... Oh my God...I could have died!"

"Tillie, I repeat...they are not dead, they are only unconscious...knocked out with a standard UNCLE tranquilizer rounds. You need to calm down, you are fine. Everything is going to be fine," the Russian spoke to her trying to soothe her frayed nerves.

Illya addressed the tech again. "Will you please see to the young lady...she is obviously in shock and in need of your ministrations?"

"Tovarisch...I see you have wreaked havoc as usual? We don't let him out too often on his own" he said looking at Tillie." he tends to get into too much mischief when I'm not around."

Illya glanced down at his wrist watch."And I see that you took your time getting here...as usual."

"You know, you really can be an ingrate at times...and who is this lovely lady, may I ask?" Napoleon offered her a charming smile along with his handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

"This is Miss Tillie Pederson, the owner of this establishment...Tillie, this is my partner, Napoleon Solo."

"Hi and thank you," Tillie said as she accepted Napoleon's offer as she tried to straighten her mussed hair.

"So...going to help me out with what happened here?"Solo asked.

Illya sighed "They came in, one pulling a gun..."

"Give me all your cash!" The punk ordered.

Illya pulled out his special tucked at his back, firing it and bringing the would-be robber down with a tranquilizer dart.

The other man aimed his gun preparing to fire at Tille when Illya dove in front of her, knocking her out of the way. The bullet grazed his head and he collapsed in a daze to the floor.

The robbers hand began to shake as he reached for UNCLE special when the Russian grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down, head-butting him. He fell backward to the floor momentarily stunned, giving Illya the chance to grab his weapon, shooting the criminal with a tranquilizer round.

Tillie screamed, grabbing Illya as he passed out. She sobbed cradling him in her arms thinking he was dead, seeing the blood gushing from his head wound.

"Yep, true to form again... see what happens when you go out to play without me?" Napoleon grinned at his partner.

The troopers escorted the would-be robbers to the squad cars, the ambulance left. And Illya finally untied his apron removing it from around his waist, grabbing his suit jacket and overcoat, slipping them on.

"Took up a new profession?" Napoleon said.

Illya ignored him, tossing the apron at him..."Do you have any cash on you?" he asked his partner.

Napoleon pulled out his wallet and a hundred dollar bill.

Illya snatched it from his hand. "Thank you...Tillie are you going to be alright? I have to leave now."

"Yeah Illya," she smiled, " I think I'll be O.K...thanks for saving my life? That was pretty amazing." she said as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

She grabbed a sweater from the coat rack, while Illya discreetly slipped the hundred into the drawer of her cash register. Then he offered her his arm as they walked outside with Napoleon heading to the car.

"And what was that for?" Napoleon leaned over, whispering to his partner.

"Napoleon, she is not going to make much money today...she gave me help when I needed it, so I want to give back a little assistance to her. And besides you can put it on your expense account."

"Gee thanks...how do I list it on the report...payback?"

Tillie spotted John Rhys and suddenly blushed, fussing with her hair again, smiling at him.

"Are all you spies this good looking?" she whispered to Illya.

He smiled, making the introductions. "Tillie this is agent John Iuean Rhys...John, Tillie Pederson." He found it interesting the two could not seem to take their eyes off each other.

"Call me John-John," Rhys said offering his hand to her with a smile and Tillie blushed again.

"Say can't I offer you fellas some coffee to go...I assume you're heading back to New York?"

John looked to Napoleon, who nodded his approval and he headed back inside with Tillie; reappearing with her a few minutes later carrying three blue and white take-out cups of coffee.

"Thank you for taking care of our man here, Tillie." Napoleon smiled as he got into the sedan.

Illya gave her a little hug and a kiss on the cheek before getting into the car. And Tillie watched with a sigh as they drove off disappearing down the snow-covered street.

The agents arrived at headquarters two hours later, Illya headed straight to medical and received a butterfly bandage for the wound on his forehead. Then after his debrief on the hearing at Langley with Alexander Waverly, he headed up to his office to find a change of clothes and shave.

Elliott walked into his office just as he had finished cleaning himself up.

"Hello my love!" she smiled," I missed ye?"

He walked over to her, pulling her into his arms, kissing her. "me too," he whispered.

"Yah...I missed my bed warmer." she teased," and those other things ye are good for too." She kissed him back passionately.

Napoleon strolled into the office at that moment.

"Get a room you two!" he quipped.

"Do ye mind sir? " Elliott smiled, "We're havin' a family reunion here." then proceeded to kiss Illya again.

"You'll be happy to know that your Russian was well taken care of Elliott." Napoleon smiled.

"Yes, Tillie Pederson is a charmingly kind woman... and quite a talented cook," Illya said," but I am afraid she is very lonely person...her work keeps her occupied seven days a week not permitting her any sort of social life."

"That sounds oddly familiar." Elliott commented.

"I felt sorry for her," Illya said," she is a very amicable and interesting person with no one in her life." He recounted Tillie and John-John Rhy's reactions to each other then told them his idea.

"I don't believe it!" Napoleon said, "You Illya Kuryakin are going to try to fix two people up on a blind date...you who resisted me setting you up with blind dates for years?"

"Not a blind date. Tillie and John I think have made a connection with each other and it would not just be a date...it would be for a night on the town. I would like to bring her here to to see Rockefeller center, take in a show and dinner. She had always wanted to see the tree and the show at Radio city...sadly it is too late for that but a nice night out in New York will make her happy I think... it as a way of thanking her. It would not be her exact Christmas wish come true, but second best perhaps?

"Oh my God...Illya Kuryakin playing Santa Claus too? Who is this woman and what did she do to my brooding Russian?"said Elliott, with Napoleon in full agreement.

Ten days later Illya and Elliott, with Dimitry laying in his stroller, walked into the Blue Swan Diver, much to the delight of Tillie Pederson. It came to Illya as no surprise that the diner was empty.

"Illya! Great to see you again...to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" she asked, eyeing the red head and the baby guessing they were his family.

"Tillie, I would like you to meet Elliott and my son Demya."

"Very pleased to meet you "she said offering her hand to Elliott. Demya suddenly began to babble..."dadadadada."

"Hello there little man!" Tillie said tickling him under the chin.

"Say hello to Tillie, Demmy." said his mother.

"Till till till...brrrrrrrhahaha! Dimitry then began to laugh happily.

"Oh isn't he too cute!" Tillie said," May I hold him?"

Tillie picked him up from the stroller cuddling and laughing at the noises he made.

"Listen to him! Tillie laughed.

"He is definitely not quiet like his papa!" Elliott said."Tillie, thank you for taking such good care of Illya...it was no minor feat convincing my Cossack not to go back out in the snow that night. He's quite the loner and prefers being self-sufficient!"

"Well I honestly have to tell you that he's my hero." Tillie smiled.

"Tillie it is closing time." Illya said interrupting the conversation.

"Closing? No, it's only..."

"How many customers have ye had in the last two hours?"

"None."

Illya walked over to the cash register, hitting the no-sale key. The drawer popped open revealing little money. He promptly slipped a hundred into the drawer then closed it.

"Illya, please don't do that...not again?" Tillie asked, her face red with embarrassment.

"No arguments. You are closing and we are taking you to New York for a night on the town. Now go pack an overnight bag and bring something dressy to wear...you are going to see a show and have dinner out at the 21 Club."

"Oh no Illya, I can't do that...I have a business to run!"

"I will take no arguments." he said firmly as he locked the door to the diner, flipping the door sign to read "closed."

"But..."

"Don't bother Tillie," Elliott smiled,"Once my Russian has truly made up his mind, there is no changing it...at least you won't be able to. I on the other hand have some different methods of persuasion that work quite well on him..."

Illya rolled his eyes, blushing just a little.

"Now come on darlin' I'll help ye pack." Elliott laid Dimitry back in the stroller then took Tillie by the arm as if they had been friends all their lives, heading upstairs to the apartment leaving Illya with his son.

Demya began to babble again and Illya picked him up, cradling him in his arms.

"Babababbbaaa. brrrrrr. Baba, baba!"

"Da, da syn moy...papa, papa_ yes, yes my son...papa, papa. Say it for me? Go ahead, say it for papa? he cooed at his baby boy.

"Dadadaddaaa...baba baba."

Then he realized Demya might actually be looking for his bottle...so he grabbed it from the diaper bag tucked under the stroller and took it to warm up in the kitchen.

A half hour later Tillie reappeared with her hair pulled up into a french braid courtesy of Elliott and dressed in a nice skirt and blouse. She did a little turn, showing her outfit off to him.

"Very nice my dear...and now, your chariot awaits."

They took her outside where a Lincoln town car was parked in front of the diner.

John Rhys stepped out from the driver's seat, opening the door for them. "Hi Tillie, nice to see you again." he smiled at her..."why don't you ride shot gun next to me?"

Illya and Elliott glanced at each other smiling.

They took her to New York and gave the the grand tour of headquarters to start...including a stop to the commissary for a cup of coffee and piece of pie.

The staff and employees there took off with Demya fawning over him. Illya apologized to Tillie that the coffee and pie were second rate when compared to hers.

Tillie whispered not wanting to offend anyone."There is definitely room for improvement...maybe I could offer the cook some tips?"

"Noooo," Illya said quietly,"Charlie would not like that...he would tell you that he cooked for the U.S. military for thirty years and would say "if it is good enough for the army, then it it good enough for you!"

Elliott laughed as Illya's imitation of the man."If you think this is bad...ye should taste the rest of the food. It's not even 50/50 shot that it's passable anymore,"she whispered, "he can't even scramble a decent egg if ye can believe that?"

Illya's eyes suddenly lit up,suddenly realizing he had a very good idea."

Tillie enjoyed her night out in New York city, taking it all in like someone who had been starving all her life. She stayed in the guest accommodations at headquarters, then then next morning John Ieuan Rhys drover her back in the town car to Hightstown.

Illya walked into Alexander Waverly's office to make a proposal to his boss.

"Sir, I may have a possible solution to the problem with the quality of meals being served in the commissary?"

"Yes Mr. Kuryakin, I have been made aware of that issue with numerous employee complaints...Charlie I am afraid is past his prime at feeding you all palatable meals. So what is this proposal you have for me...keeping it within reason of course, as I do not need accounting on my back for frivolous expenditures."

"No sir, to say the least; I think my plan will be satisfactory to all parties involved."

A month later Tillie walked into her kitchen preparing the specials for the day. She was trying to be a little more exotic now days, preparing dishes such as chicken cordon blue, baked salmon, boeuf borguignon...but would never abandon her simple yet tasty chicken noodle soup. She baked pies, prepared trifle and Ambrosia. Quite a feast for quite a few hungry customers.

Napoleon sat with Illya and Elliott at their table in the commissary eating their lunch and savoring every mouthful of their meal.

"Tovarisch...this was possibly one of the best ideas you're ever had...how did you get Tillie to give up her diner and move to New York?" Solo asked.

"I think John Iuean Rhys had something to do with that? "Elliott winked."

Illya smiled. "She received a rather generous offer from an Uncle to buy out her business, shall we say?"

It seemed rather convenient that Charlie suddenly decided to retire too?"

"I had absolutely nothing to do with that," The Russian denied." I merely suggested that she apply for the job of chef here at headquarters."

Three months late Napoleon, Illya, Elliott, Alexander Waverly and a number of the staff from the nearby headquarters of U.N.C.L.E. stood in the Tillman Interfaith Chapel across the street from the United Nations building, witnessing the marriage of John Ieuan Rhys and Mathilda Jean Pederson.

"I don't know," Napoleon said of his partner."what's gotten into you...first playing Santa Claus, job consultant and now match-maker? You really are a changed man," he said getting into his taxi.

He offered for Illya and Elliott to join him, but the couple refused, choosing instead to walk back to headquarters.

They strolled quietly along 44th St. hand in hand. Illya thinking about his motives for doing what he had done for Tillie. It was her philosophy about showing kindnesses to others that motivated him...that and his thoughts about Katiya Revchenkov and what she had done for him out of love so many years ago.

She had paid the ultimate price, sacrificing her life for his. He had saved Tillie's life and had not thought twice about it as he dove to take the bullet meant for her...just as Katiya had done for him. He had payed it forward...the kindness that Katiya had shown him.

Illya Kuryakin had crossed a new bridge in his life. Once it he lived for only duty, honor and friendship...those things that he shared with Napoleon. But now other words filled his heart...such as kindness, sacrifice and love.

Elliott, Katiya and now his friend Tillie had changed his heart for the better and he would be forever grateful to them for helping to restore the soul that he had forgotten he had.

He looked at Elliott as they walked together wondering if it was time...?


End file.
